


my favorite color is you

by annalyia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Lance (Voltron), Tags Are Hard, Underage Drinking, but then also early college aged too, some serious smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 05:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalyia/pseuds/annalyia
Summary: eight-year-old lance mcclain makes a new friend





	my favorite color is you

**Author's Note:**

> title from [sober up](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DC_TrsY7U3A) by ajr

Lance McClain bounces nervously in his booster seat as his mother brings the car to a slow and gentle stop in front of his elementary school. After putting the car in park, she turns to him, a kind smile on her face. “You ready?” she asks.

Lance nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!” He gives his mother a bright, gap-toothed grin before unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his bookbag off the floor of the car. He opens the door of the car and hops out, waving goodbye to his mother before turning to his school. “Love you, too!” he calls over his shoulder in response to her statement.

Today is Lance’s first day of second grade, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more excited in his life (except maybe for his first day of first grade, but that doesn’t count). He wraps his hands carefully around the straps of his backpack, clinging on for dear life, as he seamlessly melds with the other throngs of students, each heading to their classroom. Thankfully, there was an open house last week, so he remembers the way to his class. By the time he gets there, a few of his classmates are already in their seats.

“We’re in alphabetical order,” one of them informs him as he walks through the doorway.

“Thanks,” Lance replies. He finds his desk easily, since it has his name on it. Lance McClain is written in neat, pretty handwriting on a laminated piece of paper. There’s a sky with clouds and birds above his name, and grass with bugs and small mammals below it. He smiles.

After situating his backpack on the back of his chair, Lance takes his seat and looks at the nameplates on either side of him. He frowns as he examines the name to his left. It’s not that he’s a bad or slow reader, it’s just that he likes to make sure he’s reading things correctly. His lips move silently as he spells out the name; K-E-I-T-H K-O-G-A-N-E. Keith Kogane. An interesting name. Lance doesn’t recognize it, meaning that the student sitting next to him must be new. That excites Lance; he likes making new friends.

The rest of the students slowly but surely trickle in, each finding their desks. The girl with the desk to the right of him shows up soon after he does. She’s got honey blonde hair that’s pulled into two pigtail braids, dark green eyes, and freckles splashed across her nose. “I’m Sophie,” she tells Lance.

He doesn’t respond with “I know,” even though he does know. For starters, he read her name tag earlier, and even though she wasn’t in his class last year, he’s seen her around school before.  Instead, he says, “it’s nice to meet you, Sophie,” because his older sister Veronica always says that’s the best response.

She smiles, and it makes her eyes shine. They chat a little bit more about the usual topics that kids discuss; their siblings, their pets, the cool things they did that summer.

Lance continually finds himself glancing between the empty seat to his left and the clock.  Finally, at 7:58, right before the last bell rings, the last student enters their classroom. His chest quickly rises and falls as he breathes heavily, obviously having rushed here. His black hair is at an awkward length; not short like Lance’s, but also not quite down to his chin, either. His grey eyes scan the room, finally landing on the desk next to Lance—the only empty one in the room. He takes a deep breath and pushes his bangs out of his face before marching to his seat. He hangs his bookbag on the back of his chair and plops down in it. His eyes dart to Lance before firmly landing on the empty desk in front of him.

“Hi,” Lance begins carefully. “My name is Lance.”

“Keith,” his neighbor answers gruffly.

“Are you new here?” Lance asks.

“Yeah.” Keith doesn’t look like he wants to say much else.

Thankfully, the final bell rings, saving them from any more conversation.

Their teacher smiles kindly and starts class, introducing herself, even though most of the students were at the open house last week and already know her.

Lance zones out, missing most of the information his teacher gives out about what they’ll be doing in class that year. He can’t stop thinking about his new classmate; where he came from, what his family is like, what his favorite animal is.

Finally, eventually, after what feels like actual forever to eight-year-old Lance McClain, their lunch break arrives.  The teacher, Mrs. Ward, tells everyone to form a line so they can all go to the lunchroom. Lance unzips his backpack, grabs his lunchbox, and gets into line.  He notices that Keith doesn’t grab a lunchbox or any money.

“Do you have a lunch?” Lance asks innocently.

Keith purses his lips.  “My mom didn’t have time to pack one for me this morning.”

“Want to share with me?”

Lance watches Keith curl and uncurl his fists a few times.  Keith’s lower lip trembles and Lance begins to regret his question.  But, before Lance can renege on his offer, Keith quietly asks, “what do you have?”

“My mom makes me a peanut butter and grape jelly sandwich every day,” Lance explains.  “My brothers and sister and I get the same lunch. Sandwich, chips, and a cookie, along with a juice box.”

“That’s not a lot,” Keith notes.  “I don’t want to take your food.”

“I offered,” Lance says.  “I don’t mind. I promise.”

Keith makes solid eye contact with Lance until the line starts to move and he’s forced to walk with the rest of their classmates.  He doesn’t say anything else until they reach the lunchroom and take a seat at one of the tables. “Are you sure?” He doesn’t look at Lance as he asks his question.  

Lance opens his lunch box and takes his sandwich out.  It’s in a sealed plastic baggie, so it takes him a minute to open the bag.  His mom always cuts his sandwich in half (sailboats, not squares), so he hands one half to Keith.  “You bet.” Lance shoots Keith a gap-toothed grin.

Keith tentatively takes half of the sandwich.  “Thanks.”

“It’s better if you put chips on it,” Lance tells him as he grabs his pack of chips.  He opens the bag and extends it to Keith. “Gives it a nice and yummy crunch.”

Keith gives a small smile as he thanks Lance once again.  

Lance’s grin grows as he munches on his sandwich.  He decides not to say anything else, though, because he doesn’t want to overwhelm Keith.

The rest of their day passes in relative monotony, and, eventually, school is over.  Lance waits with his friends—old and new—for his mom to pick him up. She has to get his brothers and sister first, so Lance isn’t surprised when he and Keith are some of the only students left.

“Where’s your mom?” Lance asks.

Keith glances at the dingy watch on his wrist.  “She’ll get here.”

At that moment, Lance watches his mom’s white minivan pull into the school parking lot.  “Do you want a ride? I’m sure my mom wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” Keith answers quickly.  “She’ll get here.”

Lance frowns confused by Keith’s standoffishness.  “Okay,” he replies with a shrug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

After Lance has climbed into the car, said hello to his family, and buckled himself in, he glances back at Keith.  The other boy is staring at his watch again. After a couple seconds, he looks up and notices Lance watching him. He raises a tentative hand in a tentative wave.  Lance waves back enthusiastically.

“Who is that,  _ mijo _ ?”

“That’s Keith!” Lance explains.  “He’s new here and he sits next to me in class.”

“Aw, have you made a new friend, Lance?” Veronica asks.

Lance nods.  “Mhm.”

“Good job, buddy.”  She ruffles his hair playfully.

Lance scowls at the gesture, but he doesn’t say anything.  He likes it when his sister is proud of him.

The rest of the week passes similarly.  Keith continues to show up almost late and without a lunch.  Lance continues to share with him, slowly but surely encouraging the other boy to open up and become his friend.

Lance doesn’t really learn too much about Keith, but he likes what he does learn.  Keith’s favorite animal is a hippo (Lance’s is a shark), and his favorite color is red (Lance’s is blue).  Keith tells Lance lots of hippo facts, and Lance tells him about all sorts of marine animals that he knows about in return.  Lance sees Keith smile more and more.

After he gets home on Friday, Lance is starving.  His stomach growled the entire car ride, making his family laugh.  “Why are you so hungry?” his mom asks once they are settled in the kitchen.  “Is your lunch not enough?”

Lance shrugs and doesn’t meet his mother’s eyes.

“You  _ are _ eating everything, right?”  She grabs his lunchbox from where he placed it on the counter after school and opens it, finding it just how she expected to: empty.  

Lance still doesn’t answer.

“ _ Lance _ ,” his mother says sternly.  She places her hands on her hips—which is a tad comical, considering she is still holding his lunchbox.  “Give me a straight answer.”

“I’ve been sharing it,” he mumbles, eyes downcast, sure he’s going to get in trouble for not telling his mother about this beforehand.

His mother tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow.  “Why have you been sharing it?”

“One of my friends doesn’t have a lunch,” he says.

The stern expression on his mother’s face melts into a more understanding, sympathetic one.  “Yeah?”

He nods.  “Yeah.”

“And so, you've been sharing yours with them?”

Another nod.  

His mother purses her lips and nods solemnly.  “I'm sorry for scolding you, Lance,” she says. “And I'm very proud of you for being so kind.  You're a good boy.”

Lance’s heart swells at the praise.  “Thanks, Mami,” he says.

She crosses the room to where Lance is sitting on a stool at the island and places her hands on his shoulders before giving him a gentle, motherly kiss to the top of his head.  “You're growing into a fine young boy,” she says. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”  He smiles up at his mother.  “Can I have a snack now, though?” he asks as his stomach rumbles once again.  

There is a light laugh in her voice as she responds, “of course you can.”  She tosses him an apple from a basket on the counter. “Cheese to go with it?”  He nods emphatically as he catches the apple.

\---

Starting the very next Monday, Lance’s mom sends him to school with two lunches.  When Lance pulls the second lunch (it's in a simple brown paper bag with “Keith” written on it), Keith’s eyes go wide.  

“Is that for me?” he asks, voice small, hopeful.

“Yeah!  My mom found out I was sharing with you because you don't have one, so she said she'd make one for you.  Is that okay?”

Lance can see the struggle within Keith.  He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, his brow is furrowed, and he twists his fingers together.  It almost seems like he feels like he can't accept the bag.

But then he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and relaxes.  “Thank you,” he mumbles as he extends a hand and takes the bag.

“Of course,” Lance replies as he gives Keith his lunch.  

Once they're settled at the table, Lance studies Keith.  He watches the black-haired boy carefully open his lunch bag and remove its contents.  Lance’s eyes linger on Keith, his own lunch lying forgotten before him, as he eats. Keith is eating painstakingly slowly, obviously savoring each and every bite.  

Almost like this is the first good food he's eaten today.

“Is it good?” Lance asks carefully.

Keith’s eyes dart up from his food to meet Lance’s.  “Yeah. Thank you.”

Lance smiles and returns his attention to his lunch.  “Good.”

\---

They're playing in the sandbox at recess one cool fall day when Lance finally decides to bring it up.  “You should come over tomorrow,” he tells Keith as he buries the other boy’s legs in the sand.

Keith visibly tenses at the suggestion.  “Why?” His tone is defensive, but Lance isn't insulted. He's used to Keith’s closed and standoffish behavior by this point.  

“Because,” Lance answers happily.

“That's not a real answer, Lance,” Keith says.  “I need a real answer.”

Lance thinks that over for a minute.  “Because we’re friends,” he eventually replies. “And I like to play with my friends when we’re not at school.”

Keith frowns; not like he's dissatisfied with Lance’s answer, but more like he has to process it.  Things are so simple and happy for Lance that it throws Keith for a loop. He has to take a moment to see things from Lance’s point of view.  “I don't know if my mom would let me,” he says carefully.

“Never hurts to ask.”

After a long pause, Keith says, “I'll ask, but I can't make any promises.”

Lance absolutely beams at Keith’s response, a bright and happy thing.  “Okay!” He hadn't expected Keith to be so agreeable on this. He finishes piling sand on top of Keith.  “Do you think that's enough?”

Keith carefully studies the mountains of sand on his legs.  He wiggles a little bit to see if there is any give in the structure.  At first glance, there doesn't appear to be, so he nods. “Yep.”

“All right.”  Lance holds up his watch.  “Ready, set...go!” As he says that, Keith starts struggling to free his legs.  His tongue is held between his teeth as he leans from side to side, trying to topple the sand mountains on his legs.  Eventually, he succeeds, and the sand scatters, his legs shooting up into the air rather quickly once they are freed, almost causing him to fall over on his back. “Thirty-five seconds,” Lance reports.  “That's a new record.”

Keith grins, a giddy and proud expression.  “Heck yeah!”

The next day, Keith arrives at school at 7:58 out of breath, just like always, and sits down next to Lance.  “My mom said it was okay.”

\---

Another day passes before Keith is able to go to Lance’s house.  Partly because Lance’s mom has to procure another booster seat so that Keith can ride home with them, partly because the boys want to wait for the weekend so as to have a sleepover, and partly because she wants to discuss the situation with Keith’s mom first.  

It is an interesting event.

Lance’s mom shows up late to carline (because they know Keith is always the last student picked up).  She parks her car and waits patiently on one of the playground benches as her children and Keith chase each other around the slide and jungle gyms and swings.  The sun shines brightly, but the autumn breeze keeps the air cool and refreshing.

When her watch reads 3:00PM and Keith’s mom still has not shown up, Mrs. McClain begins to worry.  “Where is she?” she asks herself, troubled by the whole situation.

Keith, grin on his face and chest heaving, walks over to her.  He plops down on the bench beside her, breathing deeply a few times before speaking.  “I walk home every day,” he tells her quietly, expression much more solemn than before.  

That startles Mrs. McClain more than just about anything else the boy could have said.  “What?”

“I walk home every day,” he repeats.  “I always wait until after Lance leaves because I don’t want him worrying.  But my foster parents don’t get off work in time to pick me up from school, so they gave me a key.  They have a son who’s a few years older than me, and he gets home after me but before them, so I’m not alone for long.”

She nods in understanding.  “So, your mother is not going to be here to talk to today, is she?”

Keith shakes his head.  “No, but my foster brother will be.  He said it’d be 3:15 at the latest.”

At that moment, another person joins them on the bench.  He’s got black hair that’s close shaved on the sides, but longer on the top, and kind eyes.  “Hi, Keith,” he says as he sits. Extending a hand to Mrs. McClain, he says, “I’m Takashi Shirogane, but most people call me Shiro.  I’m Keith’s foster brother.”

She graciously accepts his hand and smiles warmly.  “It’s nice to meet you, Shiro. So, I understand you’re normally in charge of Keith?”

“In charge is not how I would have phrased it,” Shiro replies with a laugh.  He shoos Keith away, encouraging him to play again. “But, yeah, I keep an eye on him most days.”

Mrs. McClain refrains from asking the questions picking at the corners of her brain, and instead focuses on the matter at hand.  “It's fine if he stays tonight and part of tomorrow?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Someone will be by to pick him up tomorrow?”

“It will probably be me.  Any time in particular or just whenever?”

“What works best for you?”

Shiro shrugs.  “I'm free all day.”

“After lunch?  The kids normally eat around noon.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Mrs. McClain smiles warmly.  “We'll see you tomorrow, Shiro.”

Shiro returns her smile earnestly before calling Keith back over.  When the boy returns, Shiro places his hands on his shoulders and meets his eyes.  “Okay, Keith, I just finished talking to Lance’s mom. I'll see you after lunch tomorrow. Does that sound okay?”  Keith nods. “Good. Now, what are our manners?”

Keith takes a deep breath.  “Yes ma’am, no ma’am, please and thank you for the tootsie roll!” he recites.  

“Perfect,” Shiro replies as he ruffles Keith’s hair, messing it up more than before (which is surprising).  He gives Keith a quick hug before standing. “See you tomorrow.”

Mrs. McClain watches Shiro leave, wondering just how Keith manages not to have a lunch every day with such a caring older brother.

\---

Keith quietly observes the outside of Lance’s house.  It's bigger than the one his foster family has, and more loved.  The house has faded, tired siding and shutters, along with red brick on the surface.  The front porch has mirroring porch swings that lazily drift back and forth in the breeze.  A mostly untamed garden grows in front of the windows, some plants creeping up the sides of the house.  

It's exactly the kind of house Keith would expect Lance to live in.  

Lance waves a hand in front of Keith’s face.  “C'mon, we’re going inside,” he says. “But I guess we can sit out here if you want later.”

“The flowers are pretty,” Keith says as he follows Lance into the house.

Lance beams at Keith's comment.  “Thanks! Veronica, Mom, and me planted them back when school started.”

“What kinds are there?”

“Petunias, pansies, uh, I don't really know the other ones that well.  I think we have some daffodils too, but they aren’t going to bloom for a while.”

Keith nods. “Cool.”

After entering the front door, Lance leads Keith up a flight of stairs, down a long but well-lit hallway, and to a dark wood door covered with different art projects and pieces of paper with Lance’s name on them.  “You can put your bag in here,” Lance explains as he pushes the door open and tosses his bag up onto the top bunk of his bunk bed. The inside of Lance’s room is about as chaotically decorated as his door; posters of different marine and terrestrial animals are strewn all over the walls.  There are some floating shelves with different soccer trophies that are (surprisingly) carefully arranged by year. And, lastly, a whole galaxy of glow in the dark stars adorns his ceiling, every inch covered with constellations that Keith could never dream to know.

Keith likes just how  _ Lance _ the room is.

He proceeds to follow Lance’s lead and drops his duffle bag on the bottom bunk.  

“Do you want a snack?” Lance asks as he pulls his shoes off and tosses them into his closet (Keith follows suit, removing his shoes and placing them by the foot of the bed).  

Keith nods.  “A snack sounds good.”

Lance smiles and grabs Keith by the wrist and drags him back downstairs.  Leaving Keith to seat himself at the island, Lance scoots the dingy wooden kitchen stool across the tile floor and climbs atop it in order to reach the cabinets.  He opens the door to one, taking an apple out and tossing it to Keith, who barely succeeds in catching it, before getting himself an apple as well. He pauses before taking a bite.  “You do like apples, right?”

As an answer, Keith just stares Lance dead in the eyes as he chomps on the apple in his hand.  Lance laughs brightly in response, eating his own apple without reservation.

The boys finish their snack without much conversation, and when they’re done, Veronica joins them in the kitchen. “Do you two have any plans?” she asks as she rummages through the fridge.

Lance glances to Keith before shrugging. “Why?”

“Mami and I were talking, and we were thinking pizza and a movie tonight. Would you two like to join?”

“Sounds good!” Lance says. He eyes Keith again, and the other boy doesn’t (on the outside, anyway) seem opposed to the idea. “When?”

This time, it’s Veronica’s turn to shrug. “We’ll probably start working on dinner sooner rather than later, but you two should go and enjoy the rest of the nice day while you can.”

Lance nods before turning to Keith. “Want to go play in the backyard?” But instead of waiting for a response he pulls Keith out of his chair and to the door to the outside. It doesn’t bother Keith.

The boys spend their time chasing each other (and the McClain’s easily excitable yellow Labrador) around the yard, shrieking and laughing with pure joy as only children can. Eventually, though, they tire of all the running, and instead choose to spend their time lazily swinging on the wooden play set that sits in the back corner of the yard under the cover of an aged white oak tree.

“So, was that your brother that my mom talked to yesterday?” Lance asks after they swing for a while.

Keith visibly tenses and comes to a sharp halt at Lance’s question. “Yeah,” he says carefully.

“You don’t look like each other,” Lance observes, thinking about he and his siblings all look very related.

“Yeah.”

“How come?”

Keith is quiet for a long time before replying. “He’s not my actual brother.” The words come out quietly, softly, almost like Keith is afraid Lance will judge him for something he cannot control.

“That’s okay,” Lance says. He feels bad for upsetting Keith and wants to do his best to fix it. “Is he your step brother?”

“Foster brother.”

“You’re adopted?” Lance sounds more surprised than he means to, but he certainly wasn’t expecting that answer.

Keith nods but doesn’t say anything.

Lance bites his lip. He wants to know more, but he also doesn’t want to make things worse for Keith. “Your brother seems really cool, though. Mami liked him.”

Keith smiles softly, a corner of his lips tugging up. “Shiro  _ is _ really cool.”

“How are your parents?”

Keith’s smile vanishes, his mouth becoming a hard, straight line. “They’re okay.”

“Just okay?” It’s hard for Lance to imagine a family that isn’t full of love because his parents have always been so supportive and loving of him and his siblings.

“Yeah.” Keith shrugs before continuing, “I don’t really see them that much. Normally, it’s just me and Shiro.”

Lance nods, slowly and surely beginning to understand more about his new friend. “Okay. When did they adopt you?”

“Around May of this year.”

“From where?”

“America.”

Keith’s bluntness brings a smile to Lance’s face. “Well, I’m happy they did,” he tells Keith.

A look of surprise flits across Keith’s features, but he manages to regain a neutral expression. “Really?”

“Of course! I like being your friend.”

“I like being your friend, too,” Keith replies.

“Good.”

The boys resume their silent swinging until Veronica sticks her head out the door and informs them that they need to come inside and help make dinner. Both of them swing as high as they can before jumping out of their seats and landing in the grass, loving the rush of sailing through the air before coming into hard contact with solid ground again.

When they come inside, Mrs. McClain immediately sets them to work after giving them both aprons to keep their clothes clean. Veronica is already at the cutting board with a knife, making quick work of an onion and a green pepper. Marco and Luis are pestering their sister about making sure that she chops the vegetables small enough. Lance is handed a spoon with pizza sauce on it, giving it a taste and telling his mother what spices are missing (he decides it needs a bit more garlic and sugar). Keith climbs onto the stool and follows careful instructions for making pizza dough from scratch. Once he’s perfected the sauce, Lance pulls some chicken from the freezer and puts it into the microwave to defrost, flipping it over as needed. Eventually, all the prep work is finished, and the pizzas are artfully made. The boys watch as Mrs. McClain sticks them in the oven and sets the timer.

“Want to go pick out a movie?”

The McClain children plus Keith all scramble to remove their aprons and hurry towards the living room. Marco smugly reaches the DVD tower first, blocking it from his siblings. After a few minutes, Marco pulls three movies from the shelf for everyone else to choose from:  _ Aladdin _ ,  _ The Emperor’s New Groove _ , and  _ The Lion King _ .

“We should really let Keith choose,” Veronica points out. “He  _ is _ our guest, after all.”

Four pairs of eyes turn to Keith and he shrinks. “I, uh, I’ve never seen that one,” he mumbles, pointing to  _ The Emperor’s New Groove _ .

“That one it is,” Luis says.

Lance nudges Keith with his elbow. “You’re gonna like it.”

Marco and Luis set up the movie while Veronica checks on their mom to see if she needs any assistance. Lance drags Keith over to the L-shaped couch that rests against the wall between the living room and kitchen. “My dad should be home in a few minutes,” he says. “He always gets home around six.”

Just as the oven timer dings, the front door opens and Mr. McClain shouts a hello to his family. All four children rush to the door and give their dad a hug. He smiles and laughs, both kind and happy gestures.

Keith feels a painful pang in his heart. “And who is this?” Mr. McClain asks after his children have stepped back to give him space to walk into the room.

“This is my friend, Keith!” Lance explains excitedly. “He’s staying over tonight.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Keith.” That kind smile from before is now extended to Keith.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Keith replies shyly.

Lance rejoins Keith on the couch as the rest of his family flows into the kitchen. “Want to go get some pizza? Or do you want to sit for a minute?”

“Sit, please,” Keith says. There’s been a lot of overwhelming human interaction.

“Okay,” Lance replies happily, content with just sitting on the couch next to Keith.

After a while, though, the others return to the living room, food on their plates, which forces Lance and Keith to get their own or be tortured by the mouthwatering pizza Lance’s siblings are waving in their faces. Once everyone is settled, Marco starts the movie.

Lance was right, Keith thoroughly enjoys it.

The movie ends, and Mrs. McClain turns to Lance and Keith. “All right boys, it’s 7:45. Time to get ready for bed.”

Lance scrunches up his face in a pout. “Do we have to?”

Keith, on the other hand, lets out a yawn. “I like sleep.”

“Keith’s our guest, so we should go with what he wants,” Mrs. McClain gently reminds her youngest son.

Begrudgingly, Lance agrees. After they’ve brushed their teeth and changed into their pajamas, the two boys are snuggled under their covers promptly at eight P.M. Both of Lance’s parents tell them good night, and Mrs. McClain gently kisses Keith’s forehead, which keeps him lying awake for longer than he would have thought.

\---

For the next few months, Keith spends almost every single Friday night at Lance’s house. The routine is mostly the same; the boys play, they help make dinner, the family watches a movie together, and then Lance and Keith go to bed. It even gets to the point where Shiro starts joining the McClains and Keith for lunch on Saturday before he takes Keith home.

Lance finds himself growing closer to and liking Keith more and more as the months pass.

One day, after school, Lance finds himself on one of their front porch swings. The breeze is just warm enough, a gentle reminder that soon winter will be officially over and spring will take its place.

“There you are.” Lance turns as the screen door opens and Veronica emerges. “Mind if I join you?”

Lance shakes his head and scoots to one side of the swing, allowing his sister to sit next to him. “Were you looking for me?”

“Not necessarily,” she replies. “Just wondering where you were. Hadn’t heard you running around the house in a while.”

“It’s nice outside today,” Lance says.

“It sure is.”

They rock back and forth slowly for a little while, enjoying the weather before Lance breaks the silence with a question.

“What do you do when you like someone?”

“What do you mean? Like when you’re friends?”

Lance pauses at that. “I mean, we’re friends, yeah, but I guess I mean when you like like someone.”

Veronica suppresses a smile. She’s pretty sure she knows exactly who Lance is talking about, but she also understands that it’s a big step and he might not be entirely comfortable with it yet. “You think you like like someone?”

“Yeah, I think I do,” Lance replies quietly. He stares at his hands, which are folded in his lap.

“And you want to know how to tell them?”

“Mhm. I don’t know if they like like me back, but, I don’t know, I just want them to know.”

“What sounds like a good idea?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked you,” Lance fusses. He sticks his lower lip out in a pout and his sister can tell that he really is serious about this whole ordeal.

“Okay, okay,” Veronica relents, trying not to laugh at her little brother’s expense. It’s so hard for her to see him as anything other than adorable, even when he’s trying to look upset.

“This person is really important to me.”

“Do you want it to be something simple, or something bigger and more complicated?”

Lance thinks long and hard about Veronica’s question. “It should be something small, but it should still mean a lot.”

Leaning against the back of the chair, Veronica looks over the front yard. Her eyes land on the flower bed, and the daffodils that are just beginning to bloom. “I have an idea.”

\---

The next day, Lance is about to vibrate out of his booster seat, he’s buzzing with so much nervous energy. He keeps a hand on his backpack and the carefully stored daffodil inside. After their conversation yesterday, Veronica helped him pick the perfect flower to give to the person he like likes.

Lance swallows the lump in his throat. He’s never been this worried about anything in his life before (at least, not that he can remember). It doesn’t really register when his mom pulls the car up to the front of school and tells him that she loves him. His movement and reply are automatic, and if his mom notices anything different, she doesn’t mention it.

It’s weird, this out-of-body experience he’s having. He knows his feet are taking him to his classroom and his desk and his classmates, but they’re doing it of their own volition, not because he’s telling them to. Once he reaches his desk, Lance hangs his backpack on the back of this chair like always and takes a seat. It’s 7:47. He has approximately eleven minutes before Keith shows up.

Which means he has exactly eleven minutes to calm down and figure out just exactly when and how to give Keith a flower.

The minutes pass agonizingly slowly, but things take a turn for the worse when the clock reads 8:00 A.M. and Keith still hasn’t shown up to class.

Lance frowns, concerned, but he has to push his worries to the back of his mind as Mrs. Ward begins her lessons for the day.

The whole day passes in a blur, Lance barely absorbing anything he’s taught, instead spending his time wondering just exactly where his best friend could be.

At the end of the day, Lance approaches Mrs. Ward, tapping her lightly on the arm to get her attention. “Um, excuse me, ma’am.”

“What? Oh, yes, hello, Lance. What can I help you with?”

“Where’s Keith?”

A slight frown pulls at Mrs. Ward’s lips. “He’s no longer in our class,” she informs Lance gently.

“What?” The disorientation from before returns. “Why?”

Mrs. Ward shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I don’t know. I got an email about halfway through the school day to let me know that he no longer goes to school here.” She kneels down to be on Lance’s level, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know the two of you were good friends.”

“It’s okay,” Lance answers automatically. “Thank you.” Robotically, he turns from Mrs. Ward and walks out of the classroom, his hopes and dreams beginning to wilt, just like the forgotten daffodil still carefully stored in his bag.

\---

Ten Years Later

Lance McClain leans against the fake granite countertop of the house he’s in. Grinning, he takes the shot of vodka recently handed to him, shaking his head and letting out a whoop when it burns as it goes down. His friends, Katie “Pidge” Holt and Hunk Garret, stare at him disapprovingly. The only reason they came to this party was to make sure that their best friend from high school didn’t drink too much and end up in a ditch on the side of the road.

“Make good choices, dumbass,” Pidge quips as she hops onto the counter, taking a plastic water bottle out of the ice-filled sink next to her and cracking it open. “I’ll be here, making better ones.” She tosses Hunk a bottle as well.

“I’ll be fine, Pidgey,” Lance replies, not even feeling the alcohol in his blood yet. He guesses that’s what he gets for starting to drink in high school.

“That’s the same shit you always say,” Pidge grumbles. She glances at Hunk and then back at Lance. “We’ll be here if you need us.”

Lance gives his best friends a playful salute before turning his attention back to the other people at the cramped kitchen island. They play a few more different card games; Captain Dickhead, Fuck You, and Irish Poker being the ones that Lance likes the best.

They get him drunkest the fastest.

And, after all, isn’t that what he’s here for? Get drunk, find a hottie, get a quick fuck, and then move on with his life. Rinse and repeat.

“I was hoping that maybe we wouldn’t have to be doing this anymore,” Pidge says to Hunk as they watch Lance drink an entire beer in about fifteen seconds. She sighs, shaking her head.

Hunk takes one of the bottles of water out of the sink and hands it to Lance, who opens it with a nod and begins to drink it (slower than the beer). “At least he drinks his water,” Hunk replies when he returns to her side. “It’d be worse if he didn’t.”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s still bullshit.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you on that.”

“I just wish he’d realize that this kind of lifestyle isn’t sustainable. He’s not gonna be able to live like this and pass his classes.”

“At least, not without our help.”

Pidge sighs again, this one sadder than the last. “And we’ll always help him.”

After a couple hours of drinking and swaying to the music, Lance is finally in his happy place. He’s floating but still coherent; all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

Time for phase two.

The crowd in the house has changed periodically throughout the night, students coming and going at will. Currently, the living room is full of college kids of all ages dancing close enough that there is definitely no room left for Jesus, as his Mami would say. There are a few people dancing alone, and too many couples that look like they’re about to have sex on the dance floor. Avoiding the latter, Lance keeps his focus on some of the former. There’s a girl with straight chestnut brown hair that keeps trying to get his attention. As cute as she is, Lance’s eye is drawn to one solo dancer in particular; a broody-looking, black-haired boy who seems like he’s been nursing the same beer for too long. Grabbing a beer in each hand, he saunters over to the wall, standing next to the boy when he reaches him.

“You look like you could use another drink,” Lance says.

The boy meets his eyes before shrugging. He downs the rest of his beer in one go before taking the one Lance offers. “Thanks.”

“Oh, no problem.” Leaning a little closer, he says, “name’s Lance.”

He notices the other boy’s eyebrows furrow for just a second before his face becomes a blank slate again. “Cool.”

Internally, Lance is startled. His advances aren’t normally this unwelcome. Unless, of course, this guy is straight, in which case, Lance needs to get his bisexual ass out of there.

But, he decides to keep trying anyway. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Enough.”

“I, uh, I bet I know what could make you enjoy it a little more.”

An eyebrow raises at Lance’s comment. “You do?”

“If you’re up for it, that is.” Lance leans back at this, a cocky grin wide on his face and an eyebrow arched suggestively.

“You have no idea what I’m up for,” the stranger says, before leaning in and kissing Lance full on the mouth.

Lance is, of course, surprised at first, but he fluidly molds himself to this stranger, melting into the kiss. He lets out a pretty obscene moan as a tongue prods his lips before slipping between them, deepening and heating up the kiss pretty quickly. The other boy firmly grabs Lance’s ass with both hands, pulling him close.

“Th-this is a pretty public place,” Lance says between gasps. He’s surprised by the intensity that the other boy is showing.

“Does that bother you?” the black-haired boy asks against Lance’s lips (which is pretty hot).

Now that they’re this close, Lance can see his eyes pretty clearly. They’re a startling shade of grey, almost purple, almost like—

No.

Lance pushes that thought down. Now is not the time to be thinking about  _ him _ .

“Well, if this goes the way I want it to, we might bother the other people.”

That earns him a grin from this strange boy. “What do you have in mind?”

Lance shrugs nonchalantly. “Y’know, the usual. Some more of that kissing and then a night that ends with something  _ much _ more satisfying for both of us.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Then how about we get out of here?”

“I’d like that.” He grabs Lance by the hand (a bold move) and all but drags him out the front door. Thankfully, most of the upperclassmen who have houses live a block or two from the entrance to campus, and this house is no exception. “My dorm’s this way,” the boy explains as he leads Lance down the sidewalk and into one of the dorms on campus. By this point, they’re doing their best not to run. After going up a few flights of stairs, they reach the right hallway. Lance is taken to the room at the very end (how serendipitous), that has two nameplates on the door. One says Ryan and the other—

Keith.

Lance swallows the lump that has just appeared in his throat and shakes his head. It’s got to be a coincidence.

“Don’t worry, my roommate isn’t here.”

Lance realizes that he’s being addressed. He guesses his newfound make out buddy is misunderstanding the reason for his unease.

“Wouldn’t be worried even if he was,” Lance replies casually.

The other boy smirks. “Good to know.”

And then he’s pulling Lance into his room and closing the door and pressing his lips against Lance’s and Lance against the door.

Not that Lance minds.

But, even as much as Lance is enjoying this moment, he can’t get over the nameplate on the door.

Keith.

It can’t be a coincidence.

But, at the same time, it  _ has _ to be.

There’s no way in  _ hell _ that this is the same Keith. Keith has to just be a more popular name than Lance was previously aware.

Eventually, Lance can’t stand it anymore. He pushes the boy away and takes a deep breath before saying, “you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

The frown that etches itself onto the other boy’s face makes Lance’s heart hurt. “You mean you don’t know?” he asks softly as he takes a step back.

With that, Lance’s thoughts are confirmed. He sees it, now, in the way the boy is standing. Shoulders slightly hunched forward, eyes down, right hand on upper left arm under his shirt sleeve. It’s how Keith always stood whenever he was nervous.

“Keith?”

He nods.

Lance throws his arms around the other boy, giving one of the tightest hugs he’s ever given anyone, including family. “Keith,” he repeats, this time much softer than the last.

“Lance.”

“What are you doing here?” Lance asks as he releases his hold on Keith. “Like, where have you been the last ten years? What the actual fuck  _ happened _ to you?” Lance is so,  _ so _ happy, but at the same time he finds himself becoming absolutely furious with Keith for not reaching out before now.

Keith takes Lance’s hand in his own again and leads him to his bed, taking a seat and then patting the spot next to him, indicating that Lance should sit as well. Lance does, haphazardly kicking his shoes off before pulling his feet up on the bed with him, putting about a foot between him and Keith.

“It’s complicated,” Keith says once they’re settled.

“That’s a goddamn bullshit answer and you know it,” Lance snaps, his anger rising.

Keith doesn’t flinch at Lance’s words. “I deserve that.” He sighs, runs a hand through hair that is just as unruly as it was when he was kid, if not more. “But I mean it when I say the entire situation is just a convoluted clusterfuck.”

“Well, we’ve got all night,” Lance says. He fiddles nervously with the cuffs on his jeans.

“Want me to start from the beginning?”

“No better place.”

Keith takes a deep breath. It seems he’s just as uncomfortable with talking about himself as he used to be. “Up until I got adopted, I didn’t know anything other than the foster system. To be honest, I don’t know why that couple even adopted me in the first place. Maybe they felt bad that I hadn’t managed to last in any foster home longer than about six months. Most of the parents I had didn’t like my attitude.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Lance deadpans.

“I deserve that, too,” Keith says. “Anyway, I got adopted by this couple in May of the year that you and I met. I’d interacted with them once before, and that was at the adoption interview, where they talked the whole time about how much they wanted another son and how I just seemed like the perfect match for their little family. I was so excited to finally have a family that I didn’t really feel like that anything bad could happen. All the other people I stayed with just seemed to tolerate me, but these two people really  _ wanted _ me in their life. Or so I thought.”

Lance waits patiently as Keith takes a pause in his story. As much as he wants to know, he’s spent enough time over the last decade thinking about Keith to remember his quirks.

“I mean, I guess that’s not very fair of me. They did want me around, but they were just never around enough for it to matter. Shiro, who they also adopted, was great and did his best, but still.” Keith sighs, a sad, wistful noise. “The summer was pretty good because Shiro and I didn’t have school, even though our parents were working a ton. But then the school year started and I knew that Shiro would be in class longer than me, and that our parents would still be on the same schedule and I was afraid that I would be alone just like before. And then I met you. You were nice to me on that first day of school and every day after. You became my friend and I can’t thank you enough for that.” The last sentence is quieter than the rest, like Keith can barely say it.

“You were my friend, too, so don’t mention it,” Lance says. “You can skip to when you left. I think I have a pretty good idea of what happens in between.”

A smile ghosts across Keith’s face. “Fair. So, I was at school with you until, one day, I wasn’t. I got home from school one day and both my parents were already there, along with someone I didn’t know. She seemed really familiar, but I had no idea who she was. She and my parents were having a heated discussion in the kitchen that stopped as soon as I walked in. She stood and she just… _ looked _ at me.” Keith pauses again here, taking a moment to compose himself. “And then she said my name. She bent down so that she was eye level with me and she said my name and called herself my mom. After I got over that initial shock, I knew she wasn’t lying. I saw my eyes and nose and mouth on her face and as much as it freaked me out I knew she was my mom. My foster parents were pretty pissed about the whole thing. I guess they’d been told that my birth parents wouldn’t be in the picture at all.”

“Holy shit,” Lance breathes. He isn’t sure what he was expecting, but he knows that wasn’t it.

“And so, she helped me get all my stuff together, had me say goodbye to my foster parents and Shiro, and then we left.”

“Wait. Isn’t that, like, technically kidnapping? Like, you can’t just take a child.”

“Apparently, she’d been working on getting custody of me again for a while.”

“Gotcha.”

“Yeah. So. We moved away, and I never got the chance to tell you.”

“You never tried to tell me later, either,” Lance fusses. “There’s so much opportunity with social media now that you could have.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that  _ you _ still thought about  _ me _ ? It’s been ten years, Lance.”

“Why wouldn’t I? My best friend disappears without a trace, of  _ course _ I’m going to think about him. Especially after that last day.”

Keith knits his brows. “What do you mean?”

Lance feels a flush creep its way up his face. “Nothing.”

“Lance, tell me. I just bared my soul to you, which you know I hate doing, so you can get your panties out of a wad and tell me.”

“I, well, I’d finally realized that I liked you as more than just my best friend. I figured out that I like liked you. And I’d decided to do something about it. It took me a while to accept, you know, the whole, I’m a boy and I like a boy thing, but it was you and so it was worth it. I talked to Veronica about it, too. I didn’t name any names, but I think she knew. Especially considering how absolutely devastated I was when you weren’t at school the next day. Anyway, I, well, I got you a flower. Veronica helped me pick one from the garden for me to give to you at school the next day. And then, well, you weren’t there. You were never there again. I ended up throwing it away.”

Keith frowns again. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, I threw a lot of things away. A lot of opportunities and a lot of people who would probably have actually cared about me if I let them. But whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore.” The alcohol has started to wear off, and Lance’s good mood with it.

“Lance.”

“What?” he snaps.

Keith takes a deep breath. Whatever he’s prepping himself to say, Lance knows that he should push his anger aside for a moment and listen. “I’m sorry. About what it did to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out and try to find you or something. I’m sorry that the first time we saw each other again you were drunk at a college party, didn’t recognize me, and I took advantage of that.”

“Well, you know, I could have reached out too,” Lance says. He knows that he shouldn’t put all the blame on Keith, even though that’s the easiest thing to do. He lets out a short laugh. “I, uh, I actually singled you out today because you reminded me of, well,  _ you _ . Funny how that worked out.”

Keith chuckles softly. “Funny indeed.”

They sit there in silence for a few minutes, each taking time to process what the other has said.

Lance speaks first. “Y’know, this isn’t the most ideal situation,” he begins slowly, “but, at the same time, I will say that it’s nice to have you back.”

“It’s nice to have you back, too.”

“It might take me a little while to get over, process, and come to terms with everything—”

“Which is okay.”

“ _ But _ , I’m ready and willing if you are.”

“I am.”

Lance smiles. It’s nothing big or serious, but it reaches his eyes and makes them shine like the stars that he’s always loved to watch. It makes Keith smile back.

“I think I should go back to my dorm,” Lance says. “As nice as your room is, I miss my bed.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

They both stand up, and Keith walks Lance to the door. “I’ll see you around?”

“Definitely.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> one time i heard sober up on the radio and was like "damn that'd make a good kid fic" and so here we are
> 
> the song that i had in mind for when they're dancing at the college party is [love lies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYtsL9znopI) by khalid and armani
> 
> anyway i hope you enjoyed it! it's one of the first like not definitely a happy ending and more bittersweet things i've written so please please please please please let me know what you think!! kudos are great and comments will literally make me cry tears of joy


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